SPOILIN’ THE BROTH
Everything in the United Kingdom is just a “10-minute walk” from wherever you are. Four Rock-dale couples can attest to this.
John (the recently retired Good Doctor) and Jean Weed, Bob and Geri Burnett, Gary and Annette Griesbach and Peg and I recently spent many half-hours on “10-minute” walks.
No matter where we were in London, when we asked directions, the hotel staff or the waitpersons at the pubs (or restaurants when we resorted to food) would point the direction and we always were told it was a 10-minute walk.
Theory: There are far less overweight people in the UK than in the good ole’ USA. That’s got to be the reason those walks always took us 25 to 30 minutes.
That, and the fact that Bob and Peggy were experiencing knee trouble and I had a sore foot. Doc III has a tinge of hip trouble. Meanwhile, the Griesbachs are perpetual-motion Energizer Bunnies and probably could have made those trips in 10 minutes were it not for us infirm.
A few moons ago we all were avid tennis players. So, of course, we went to Wimbledon. To get there, we needed to take the “tube” (Brit for subway). The hotel staff told us the nearest station was (you’re way ahead of me, aren’t you?) a 10-minute walk. It was three 10-minute walks.
Somehow, we arrived at the tube station in two groups at two different entrances. There followed an interesting half hour trying to reunite underground.
Departing the tube at the Wimbledon stop, we were directed to the All-England Club. A man pointed and said it was a 10-minute walk. It was, plus 20, all uphill. But worth every step.
During a guided tour, we had our photos taken at Center Court with the Royal Box in the background. We had our photos taken in the players’ TV interview room. And we really enjoyed the Wimbledon Museum and exhibits.
Hey, I’ve still got a bunch of those old wood rackets. Come over some time and I’ll show them to you. It’s only a 10-minute walk.
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